


Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be

by Markedbyhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Returns (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, Love Letters, M/M, Not Happy, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sorry Not Sorry, coda 15x07, we're real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markedbyhell/pseuds/Markedbyhell
Summary: Dean had started dialing his number thirteen times to be exact, and thirteen times he'd been staring at the screen for hours before bed, with his faithful headphones in his ears and some disjointed thoughts vaguely remembered a prayer, wondering if that was really the right choice. If that was really his choice.“I think it's time for me to move on”The fourteenth time he smashed the phone against the wall and never tried again, drowning the pain in food, work and alcohol.Written before the 15x07
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the 15x07

**Darling so it goes,**

**somethings are meant to be.**

**Take my hand, take my whole life too**

**For I can't help falling in love with you.**

> Smoky clouds darkened the moon from time to time, casting shadows over the bare Kansas's landscape.

The plan was simple: on Thursday evening, except for unforeseen events, it was dedicated to Dr Sexy MD's sixteenth season and the pie, delicately wrapped in the plastic box on the back seat (Sam had blathered something about cholesterol and his heart for the entire trip, but he had completely ignored him) was only a small reward for the successful hunt of the day – and for the shitty life he had to endure in the last forty years.

For that reason when Dean parked his Baby in front of their home, under a sky that seemed ready to explode, he was not surprised to find slightly ajar a door that was once called impregnable.

He got out of the car holding the torch firmly in one hand and the gun in the other, crawling along the profile of the crumbling building to the semi-open door and pushed the old steel panel. The horror film squeaking and the breath that condensed into white puffs tore an exasperated smirk from him, while as quietly as possible he agreed with his brother on the moves to make.

When he came in and saw a stiff, familiar figure wrapped in a wrinkly trench coat, all he could do was lower his gun and his eyes.

What Dean had been trying so hard to avoid for weeks was there, unexpectedly and perfectly seated in the very same spot where he had seen him climb the stairs months before. When he had abandoned him to his thoughts and worries, leaving him alone with no one to hold on to.

Dean didn't know exactly how he spent the rest of that day: the minutes had dripped away slowly as he wandered around the bunker without really paying attention to what he was doing. His gaze focused on seemingly random points but his wrath-clouded mind didn't really record the reason.

Those walls and that house were a fragile dream that had been in danger of breaking for far too long now. And after the deaths of his mother and Jack's, Castiel remained the only glimmer of normality in his world. He was supposed to warn Sam, he was supposed to clean up his shit but at the time it all seemed like distant issues.

The anger had simply disappeared over time. It had left room, however, for something even worse: guilt, nostalgia, loneliness.

Only then he realize how much he had believed in it – in Castiel, in that weird family that seemed to have been created before everything was destroyed -, how committed he was. Yet a distant voice in his head warned him that there were so many things he could do but hadn't done.

Dean had started dialing his number thirteen times to be exact, and thirteen times he'd been staring at the screen for hours before bed, with his faithful headphones in his ears and some disjointed thoughts vaguely remembered a prayer, wondering if that was really the _right_ choice. If that was really _his_ choice.

_“I think it's time for me to move on”_

The fourteenth time he smashed the phone against the wall and never tried again, drowning the pain in food, work and alcohol.

Now Castiel was back. And Dean would've thanked godknowswho, he would've wanted to scream and shout yes to heaven, but he didn't. He kept quiet.

«Hey Castiel!» Sam greeted him with a sincere smile, rushing down the iron steps, leaning towards him in a quick but affectionate hug. Castiel returned the hold, distracted. «It's good to see you here» he said, alternating the look between him and his brother – a brother who was burning the angel with his eyes.

It was impossible not to notice the tension in the air; fortunately, however, Sam seemed to have understood that it was better to be silent.

«Are you all right?» Castiel completely ignored him, reciprocating Dean's gaze. «Oh, right. I was forgetting who I was talking to» he murmured, clearing his voice. «If anyone's interested I'll go get some food for dinner. You two...» Sam stared at his brother with a strange look that inflamed his bowels of shame. «... please, behave like adults » and he heads for the door so fast that it seemed almost an escape, patting on Castiel's shoulder and slamming the door behind him. The sound almost seemed to reverberate in the inhuman silence dropped in the great hall of the bunker.

«Hello Dean»

«It's been a long time Cas»

Pretending not to have suffered from the degradation of their relationship would've been useless for both.

Castiel felt left behind, abandoned in a world that didn't belong to him and of which Dean had convinced him to be part.

But human life without them had turned out to be boring and lonely, and Castiel had found himself unable to really leave.

«Two months and eighteen days» _Seventy-nine days to be precise_ , he added in his mind.

Dean smiled at him, barely bending his mouth to the side.

«How are you Dean?»

«Chuck is back»

«I know. You told me on the phone, but that's not an answer to my question.»

«This whole situation is driving me crazy» Dean clenched his fists, smiling bitterly. «Everything has been manipulated by Chuck, everything! I didn't sell my soul for Sam, _he did_. I didn't choose to say no to Michael, I didn't choose to take the Mark of Cain, I didn't choose to have myself possessed. _He did_. Everything I did, everything that brought us here... it was only Chuck looking for a decent soap opera. And I'm tired man.»

Castiel was still staring at him in that way and Dean always felt naked in front of that look; he always had the impression that he was trying to look directly at his soul. But there was also more, a deeper light, down there, at the bottom of the blue irises – _so blue_ – that gently whispered to him that he was safe, accepted exactly as he was, always, even though everything around them was imploding,collapsing like a delicate house of cards.

«How do I know what about all of this is my decision? How do I know if you, _us_ , aren't just another of God's twisted game?» Dean blinked and swallowed, trying to send some saliva down his dry throat.

The heart was ringing in his ears, deafening him. The words had slipped off his lips too easily and it didn't take long before his brain reached them. But somehow he just wanted Castiel to know.

«Dean, we've already talked about this but you were too pissed to listen to me» he said, propping up his hands on the table to get up. «Sam told me about his dreams and in all these endings, in all my father's stories I never appear. You never wondered why?» Castiel moved approaching the large wooden table, distractedly playing with his fingers on the engravings left a lifetime ago. «Dean, my father may have put me on your path but I'm the one who chose to stay with you, And many times it was hard, you can be a very stubborn man. But despite everything I came back here, didn't I? By your side.» Castiel gave him a smile of encouragement so genuine, so natural – _so human_ – that Dean was almost intoxicated by it. «That's where I belong and that's what I chose. I chose all of you, I chose _you_. I have always chosen you, Dean. I don't know what Chuck forced you to do and I'm really sorry. But ever since I gripped you tight and dragged you out of hell, ever since I saw your soul for the first time... _we're real._ »

He could try not to show anything but he could feel it. That pain in the middle of his chest, that red-hot frustration and that divine anger barely held back.

Dean opened his mouth only to close it, unable to reason, to find the right words. He didn't answer, did he really need to?

Castiel half-closed his eyelashes, releasing a trembling sigh.

His powers had begun to waver and even though he had already come to term with his destiny, it was difficult to imagine his life – no longer immortal – without wings and without being able to hear the Righteous Man's prayers vibrating in his head.

During these months he had perceived only indecipherable fragments and over time they had vanished. But now Dean's thoughts resounded within him with force, filling every cell: confessions, pride, apologies, _I think I'm in love with you stupid son of a bitch_.

Castiel smiled.

It was probably the only time he would have heard it. He imagined those words echoing between their breaths, a distant echo that would guard away from everyone, away from duties and responsibilities. An oasis where he could always take refuge.

_Dean_.

His head was saturated with that name, there was nothing else but those green irises that had always recognized and really seen him beyond the vessel, through that handprint that he always keep hidden under layers of fabric.

That symbol of their bond where Castiel left something unique, something he had lost.

Part of himself he needed.

«Dean, it's been eleven years, Do you really think it's important to say it out loud? _No chick flick moments_ , right?»

«No, you're right»

And when Castiel turned to look at him, Dean took the opportunity to destroy the distance between them, taking the messy hair through his fingers, enjoying that beard's shadow that tickled his chin, overwhelmed by the taste of his lips, of his tongue. Fire and electricity while with an arm around his waist he held Dean to himself, stronger, closer, until there was no space between them.

Castiel moved away for a moment still confused and surprised, any coherent thought lost in those two green eyes that were still staring at him, only to reunite their lips as if they were destined to be together. A long, deep kiss, made of caresses and groans, made of never expressed feelings and years of waiting.

Of a thousand answers and none at all.

His mouth opened of his own free will, greedy, while his brain struggled but perfectly aware of what it needed.

«Cas» Dean whispered his name with a choked voice, leaning forward to lay his lips on him once again in a touch as impalpable as a feather. «I'm here if you need me»

Castiel didn't answer caught off guard by that sweetness, but then kissed his upper lip and closed his eyes, one, two, three times, absorbed by the thrill that rolled down his back, making him tremble.

Because he was _Dean_.

The Dean for whom he had lost his wings, for whom he had chosen a mortal life. The one he had followed in battles and for whom he had always been ready to sacrifice himself aware that only hell awaited him.

The Dean who was now kissing him, luring him to his bedroom, who was looking at him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

And under that touch, Castiel realized it was all he ever wanted.

The bed welcomed them with a deaf thud, still unable to break off from each other, caught by increasingly intimate and warm kisses. Castiel pushed him over, sneaking his hands under his shirt and caressing his hips, pulling up the fabric, worshiping every inch of skin he found along the way, until he pulled it out of his head when Dean raised his arms to help him, ruffling his light hair.

Castiel kissed the curve of his shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the profile oh his neck. Dean tilt his head back, putting his fingers between in his dark hair to incite him even when Castiel's hands stroked his back, up and down, up to his shoulders, grazing the V formed by the iliac bones making him to arch. Castiel closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts only on his warmth, on the hands that made the trench coat slide down from his shoulders, that unbuttoned his shirt with ferocity. He was concentrating on the hot trail his tongue was drawing on his chest, the warm breath that tickled the damp skin.

«I have no idea what we're doing» the hunter nervously licked his lips «but don't stop» he admitted, hiding his face in the hollow of his shoulder. «Please» he said again, before starting to torture his lobe, clumsily undoing the belt. Castiel didn't have to be invited twice, stripping him completely with confident gestures, only to imitate him and abandon his clothes on the floor next to those already present.

Dean settled again on his lap, gently rubbing and groaning slowly at the touch, taking possession again of those full lips and red from kisses and bites. The angel caressed his tights, pausing on his groin, wrapping his erection without ever looking away from his eyes. Castiel barely moved, sinking carefully into him as his eyes gleamed with an intense blue.

Dean looked at him in ecstasy and the angel struggled to keep himself from fucking him.

God, he was amazing.

He moved carefully waving his lips and when Dean let slip a faint groan, Castiel pushed harder. «Cas» the hunter breathed, clinging to his back. « _More_ »

And he did. Castiel took possession of his lips and everything else, he took his breath, his voice, holding him close to himself, faithfully following his orders.

He pushed himself into him with dry and slow thrusts as he heard him panting in his ear, his breath turning into groans, the groans into screams. Rough, deep sounds that were enough to push him to the limit.

It wasn't long before Dean stiffened, overwhelmed by a long shiver that made him come into their chests.

Castiel fucked him through his orgasm, accompanying the last traces of pleasure completely lost in him, moaning his name like a prayer and when the excitement caught him by surprise he followed him into the abyss with a gasp that vibrated with force out of his lips.

..............

Castiel said nothing when he felt Dean's breath become calmer and more regular, gently leaning against his chest.

He could feel his breath touching his neck and squeezed him tightly, weaving his legs with his own, caressing him slowly, breathing deeply the scent of his hair. Counting in the dark all the freckles that decorated his face.

 _A hundred and sixty-four_.

Castiel thought his heart was shaking.

Every fiber of his grace and every cell of his vessel quivered of enthusiasm.

He was happy. As happy as he hadn't been for years, as he had never been.

And that awareness hit him right in the stomach: it could only mean one thing.

Castiel slipped his arm from under Dean's head, trying in every way not to wake him up, abandoning the warmth of his body, that sweet feeling of home. He recovered the clothes he had thrown the night before to the room, smiling at the memory of those hungry kisses as he put the dusty trench coat back on his shoulders.

The angel stood by the bed taking a few minutes to watch over him, to observe the blissful expression of a sleeping Dean, with his lips barely opened and his body wrapped in that sheet that hours before had welcomed both. He was a vision of sacred traits and for the first time ever he felt obliged to thank heaven.

From the beside table he managed to retrieve a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote quickly, leaving it next to his mother's photo in a place he knew he would look.

«I always keep my promises» an almost mechanical, broken voice brought him back to reality. Castiel turned to look at the shadow that was talking to him, still hidden in Dumah's body .«You're mine, Castiel. The sunshine has raised and I'm here to drag you into nothing» her lips stretched into an unnatural grin.

Castiel nodded slowly as he approached by one step, only to stop once again clenching his fists. He smiled gently, regretting not being able to see his eyes, fighting against himself to not wake him up and apologize for the wasted time, to get lost in that smile one last time, to kiss him again and again.

But this time, there was no time to say goodbye.

There was no way. _Or courage_.

So Castiel surrendered to nothing.

.............

It was the first time in centuries that Dean had managed to sleep free from nightmares. No demons, no death, no hell.

Only peace.

Dean woke up with his cheek against the pillow and a trickle of drool descending to the sides of his mouth; he wrinkled his eyes when the sound of the alarm clock warned him that he had lounged enough. In the semi dark of the room he noticed the lack of heat next to him and turned off the alarm waiting, reviewing in his mind all the events of the night before.

Castiel taking off his shirt. _Oh yes._

Castiel begging for his name. _Stop_.

Dean brushed his hand over his face, driving away all thoughts and trying in vain to regain lucidity. Those images would've been enough to keep him company for a long time.

Then he saw it.

A carefully folded piece of paper stood out on the nightstand next to him and Dean knew, _he knew it_ , that something had gone wrong. With an impeccable handwriting, with an anonymous blue ink one word made him sweat cold.

_“Dean”_

And he never hated his name that much.

_When he died I didn't know what to do. Seriously Dean, losing Jack destroyed me and when the empty was about to take him... I saw a chance to save him and I did._

_I traded my life for his and I'd do it again._

_I should have told you sooner, I know. But I lacked courage._

_We had problems and I was sure that I'd lost you, that I'd lost all of you._

_Sam and Jack are my family, you are my family Dean._

_And I would do anything to save you. Always._

_Over the years, I've learned a lot about humanity._

_You taught me to appreciate the little things in life and the feelings that go with it even thought I didn't always understand them._

_But I'm sure of one thing: I love you._

_I've always wondered why I fell from heaven for you, why I kept choosing you out of the crowd. And one day, all of a sudden, it was clear._

_Not once in my life would I ever have thought that you could return my feelings._

_But yesterday you surprised me again._

_This morning I was happier than I've ever been in my whole life Dean, and I thank you for that, I'll never stop doing that._

_Please, I know you. Don't even think for one second that this is all your fault. That's how it had to be._

_You were the beginning of it all Dean Winchester and it's almost poetic that you're the last thing I'll ever see. And it's so hard to say goodbye, if I had the choice I would never do it._

_But it's time and you, you're gonna be okay._

Dean let the letter fall to the ground, looking around lost. He thought about the night before, about how easy it had been to admit feelings he had avoided for years, how right and inevitable it had seemed. A real choice, them, in a life manipulated by God. And now... Castiel was gone. Dead. And once again Dean didn't know where to start to help him. Why there was always something ready to ruin everything whenever he could see a light at the end of the tunnel? Why couldn't he have been happy for a change? He had dedicated his whole life to helping others, sacrificing himself, _everything_.

_I will always love you._

Dean held back the tears again in his stupid life.

In a moment of anger he struck the wall with all the strength he had left in his body, injuring his knuckles, filling the void inside him with pain for the umpteenth time.

He clutched his arms with strength and squeezed, squeezed again, as if that contact was the only thing that could make him remain lucid. He couldn't think , tripping over his own feet with his legs trembling and his knees weak.

He took a choked breath and gasped.

_Goodbye Dean._

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this story for a while and I'm sorry.  
> This is what came out.  
> I hope you like it and as always comments and kudos are really appreciated.
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading it.


End file.
